Desolate Heights
by Wespe
Summary: It has been two years since the start of the Equestrian Civil War. Two years of bloody and savage fighting between the Lunar Republic and Solar Empire. In the midst of this turmoil is where Scootaloo finds herself. Independent and fiercely loyal, she reflects on the cost of war so far and what it means to her.


There is silence and then a well-known sound. The soft rumble of the cannon and an echo as a fire inflames the evening clouds overhead like a luminous specter which appears and quickly fades. Then a whistling echo pierces the dark and is soon followed by a dull thud somewhere further off.

The sun is setting now in the west – behind us. We face toward the east, always to the east. That's where the cannon barrage commences each day because that's where the "Solars" are. "Solars" is what we call them. I'm sure they don't call themselves that though. But the sun's presence behind us is our constant reminder of what we were fighting for – and against. It's like a silent watch-word being passed down the line. It inspires us, in the same way I'm sure it inspires the enemy.

I straighten myself as I gaze from atop the green slope which rolls down into the forested valley below. I lean a little on my side, flexing my legs. As I stretch myself, I casually look through the edge of my peripherals.

A couple of meters to my left is the other sentry. He's a corporal by the patch on his sleeve. His blue uniform is as neat and distinctive as ever, his rifle firmly by his side, and his cap perched smartly upon his head. Yet, I can see there is a noticeable sadness in his face as he sways wearily in calm evening wind.

I know he is exhausted. I doubt he's slept more than four hours in the last two days. There are noticeable bags under his blood-shot eyes as he peers out into the vastness of the forest that lays beyond. But his vigil as diligent and constant as ever. I knew would not waver from his appointed task. Duty kept him there. Duty to the cause. The one for which we were all fighting for.

"The Cause" - I had heard that expression many times before. When mentioned, it was often accompanied by the words "freedom" or "destiny" or a speech about the abuses and supposed injuries sustained, as well as our moral obligation to continue fighting. The rhetoric still rings as loudly in my ears as ever because I know it is true. The cause was something that I was willing, perfectly, willing, to lay down my life for.

It had been nearly two years since this conflict had started. I still remember the day when the news of the Citadel's Bombardment had reached Ponyville. It was as if a bombshell itself had landed in the town.

Everywhere ponies clamored with excitement and the word "war" rang on every lip. Looking back, I cannot help but feel a profound nostalgia over the subject, because I was one of those ponies who partook in it. I stood and cheered in the city commons as the mayor read off the "Petition of Secession" which had been drafted earlier that day.

We were now part of a "republic", she declared. She went on to relate that we would now be headed by Luna, who after renouncing her royal titles because of her sister's treason, became our first president. She promised justice and equality and a fairer means of representation for all ponies. By the end of the street, the entire crowd was in an uproar of ecstasy and fervor. Ponies raced through the city yelling: "Down with the Tyrant!" and "Death to Celestia!"

I will not lie, for once in my life, I was truly happy beyond measure. As the streets filled with joyous crowds, everything that had yesterday seemed unfathomable to me had suddenly become tangibly within my reach. It was as if the entire world as I knew it had been given a new breath of life. Over and over the ponies rejoiced and the people shouted for liberty, and I was among them. We all expected to see a new dawn of freedom, a new age of possibilities, a rebirth for Equestria. What we got was very different.

It wasn't long after that the town received a copy of war declaration from Celestia, who had proclaimed all those cities which had willing seceded to form this "Lunar Republic", were in rebellion. She then granted herself emergency powers until such time as it had ended and assumed the sole title of "Empress".

Soon, the call to arms sounded all over the land. Ponies raced from all over to join the ranks of the newly formed "Lunar Army". I did too. I hurried along, another eager face in the crowd, ready for my chance to serve my ideals in a grand adventure. A chance to go see the world and forge a destiny for myself. What little I knew awaited me, but it was beyond my comprehension at the time. How could I have known any differently? I was swept up in the patriotic fervor that all of us felt.

I left nothing behind me when I signed my name to the enlistment papers. I had never knew my father, and my mother died when I was only 6. I had no brothers or sisters or relatives that I knew of, so I had spent most of my childhood as an orphan. I could do as I pleased and if I died in the service of my country, I wouldn't be missed. At least, that's how I looked at it.

So they handed me a rifle and given a bright, new blue uniform and joined the ranks of all the other enthusiastic ponies. We marched off on that very same day to a jubilant parade. No longer were we but the blacksmith, the baker, or the tanner that we had been the day before; now we were a proud group of soldiers, all willing to do our part in what we assumed would be any easy victory over the "loyalists".

What I found out soon, though, was one of those "loyalists" was the pony I admired the most in the entire world: Rainbow Dash. I still remember the day she boarded the train, heading to Baltimare to declare her loyalty to Celestia. I wept with bitter tears as we bade our last good-byes to each at the station and promised that we'd see each other again when this thing was over. That was the day before I enlisted.

Her departure was hard to bear, however, she wasn't the only one. For soon, as I came to find out, a whole multitude of ponies – ponies I knew and respected, including my good friend, Sweetie Belle – went to east to join the loyalists cause as well.

At the time, I couldn't fathom how any pony would willing volunteer to side with Celestia. Did they not believe in the cause? Did they not see that we were fighting for freedom? For our dignity? What possessed them to willing join the ranks of a tyrant? Especially Rainbow Dash, who I looked up to as the sister I never had.

The thought plagued my conscience for a long time afterwards. After all, she was my hero, my mentor, my friend. How could I fight someone I had always looked up to? Against someone I cared for and respected? The fact still haunts me until this day.

It's been two years since then and here I am, a soldier standing at her post as a part of the 15th regiment of Earth Ponies, assigned to guard the heights around Ponyville. It was a remedial job, for sure, but someone had to do it. It was the only thing us invalids were good for, it seemed.

Though, I originally hadn't been part of the Earth ponies. When I first enlisted, I was assigned into the Cloudsdale regiment, like all the other pegasi. In the few months I spent in training I learned, among other thing, how to drill, how to clean a rifle,and how to fight. Most importantly though, I learned how to reconnoiter as stealthily as possible behind enemy lines. As a pegasus, it was my job to scout the enemy and know their whereabouts at all time to ensure victory. That was my role on the battlefield.

I had my reservations about it. In the beginning I felt like those in command had denied the glory of being on the front-lines for something that seemed, at least in my opinion, mundane and cowardly. Despite this, I soon shrugged those prejudices off. That's what you have to do in war. There's no room to complain, because no one has the energy to put up with. And even if they did, what good would do you? You can't change anything. So I bore it with a grin and soldiered on. Though, unlike what I first thought, it wasn't long before I would see combat.

My first engagement was at Bell-Boot Bridge on the River Halcyon. We were to form a vanguard there and cover the retreat of the Lunar Army, who had just fought their way out of the siege around Canterlot. I was assigned to the 79th Cloudsdale, which had taken positions around the bridge itself. It wasn't long after that the Solar Army arrived.

I'll never forget seeing the enemy for the first time. From across the hills on the far bank, a solid row of gold and brown appeared, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions. The bayonets of their fixed rifles glinted brilliantly in the afternoon sun and the earth trembled as they marched together down the slope, in perfect unison.

It was an awe-inspiring and terrifying sight. I still remember my feelings at that exact moment. How my heart suddenly seized with fear and lodged itself into the bottom of my throat. My hoofs began to shake furiously as I lay prone behind the wooden fence that we used as cover, and for a brief second, my heart wavered and I thought of running away.

I believe the comrade next to me realized the distress I was in. She was an older soldier, with an orange coat like myself. She leaned over and took one of my hoofs in hers and smiled at me. "It'll be alright," she said. "Just keep your eyes focused. I'll see us through this. You and me, together."

I never did learn who that pony was. Not even a name. I didn't really get a chance to study her face that well, and after the battle was done, I couldn't find her among the ranks. When our regiment reached Ponyville again, I looked through the hospital and infirmary, but I couldn't find her there either. I concluded she must have gotten lost or captured in the chaos of the battle or had simply deserted. It makes little difference now, I suppose, but what did matter, was that in that moment, while I stared at what looked like certain death, I felt reassured and steady.

The battle commenced after we gave an initial volley which the enemy quickly returned. Back and forth the firing escalated before it descended into utter madness as each pony lost any semblance of order amidst the chaos of the fray, which soon enveloped everything around it.

Once the shooting began, my body became like a machine. All those hours of drill made the process of reloading instinctual. I went through the motions, step by step, with lightning precession. My body shaking with adrenaline as I rammed home the charge to make ready for another shot. This I did, time and time again, ceaselessly, and without thinking.

A thick haze soon obscured the entire battlefield making it impossible to see anything except shadows of the enemy that appeared and then disappeared like ghosts. I fired blindly, aiming at them the best I could. From across the battlefield though, I couldn't tell if I had hit anything and I'm sure no one else could either. I just kept firing and reloading, as fast as I possibly could.

I often heard the whiz of a bullet go by my ears over the deafening noise that roared all around me and on occasion, a cannon shell would land near by, throwing earth and debris in all directions. I would cringe as I felt the ground shake beneath me and the hot air burn my cheek. I'd bury my head beneath the earthen barrier at the base of the fence before presuming to pull myself up to give fire once more.

The hours blended into one another as the battle progressed and I lost any notion of time, but I do remember that as midday arrived, the regiment found itself running low on ammo and so we were forced to retreat. We abandoned our positions along the heights in good order, and began our march back to Ponyville. The enemy, however, lost no time in crossing the river and gave us chase immediately– nipping at our heels the entire way. That concluded my first engagement. My first taste of battle. More like it followed soon after, but by that time, I was back to doing to reconnaissance, as I had been trained to do from the beginning.

This I can still recall as if it had happened just yesterday as I stand here at my post. I darkness is descending faster now. The twilight beacon of the azure horizon fades softly in the distance as gleaming tints of stars begin to gradually appear overhead. I shiver a bit, feeling the still rather chilly wind of spring bite me where my wings use to be. In their place, two stubby nub that grace my back. I try to wiggle them as I once had when I was able to fly, and strangely, they still felt as though they were still there.

I lost them a year after my first engagement. I was flying one of my usual missions over enemy territory to the south. It was midnight and the moon was veiled behind a thick bank of clouds. I didn't think in the darkness I could be spotted, so I flew low and fast above the trees. A rookie mistake, I knew, but what is life without a little danger?

I scouted the enemy's position and was about to fly back, but I was spotted by a Solar patrol. I flew away as fast I possibly could, but it was not use. Shots rang out and I felt a violent shock rip through my left-wing. I immediately fell and crashed into the forest below, with the enemy following close behind me. In the haste of the moment, I tore my jacket and fashioned a tourniquet around my wing to stop the bleeding and throw them off my trail. I then limped at least five miles with the bones of my wing tearing the flesh at every jump and hurdle until I had reached the outskirts of the Everfree Forest where I sought refuge from my pursuers.

As a young filly, I had always been taught to stay as far away as possible from that accursed forest. Even in my present predicament, having a broken wing being chased by Solars, I hesitated to enter its dark abode. Whether it was out of sheer desperation or a momentary madness, I forced myself to enter, braving my own fears to make my way back to safety, not knowing what lay ahead of me.

What I didn't realize at the time, however, was that a few months earlier a battle had been fought there. But I soon came to realize, as such, when I stumbled upon a rock that caused me to trip and fall. I cursed under my breath at the rock, but when held it up to the light and examined it closer, I realized it was not a rock at all – but a skull!

All around the vast expanse of the forest lay the ragged and tattered uniforms of soldiers who had long been dead – still strewn where they had fallen. Faces of the dead lay frozen in agonized expressions, and from the pale moonlight, one could make out the deteriorated and decaying skin still hanging from their wilted bones. I will not go into great detail of that night. The sights I witnessed in the Everfree, I have tried long and hard to forget. But they are still burned as crisp and clear in the recesses of my mind as the moment I first saw them, and they have haunted my recollections ever since.

When I reached the base at dawn the next morning, I stumbled into my barracks and collapsed from exhaustion. When I awoke again, I was in the Ponyville infirmary. Surprisingly enough, the first face that I saw and recognized was that of my sister's old acquaintance: Fluttershy. She was working as a nurse, at that time, tending to the wounded.

It wasn't long before I had grabbed her attention and we got a chance to talk. That was then she informed me of the severity of my case. A bullet had hit me in my wing, she explained, but instead of going through, it had lodged itself there and had shattered the bone the entirely. It could not be mended, she went on, and the only thing to be done was to amputate both of them.

At length I questioned why I would have to have both of my wings amputated when only one was of no further use to me. She explained that if they were to only remove the one of my wing, the other would cause me to be off-balance. And It was necessary, if I had any hope of returning to the front, to have both amputated.

This news I had received with a degree of apathy. I didn't lament the loss of my wings. I had never had fully developed them to start with, so it made little difference to me if I was confined to the ground as an Earth Pony for the rest of my days. So I accepted the surgery with my usual bravery – that was, before the doctor came and showed the bone-saw he intended to use, at which point, everything went black.

When I awoke, both of wings were gone, but Fluttershy was still there. Over the next few weeks, as I lay in my bed recovering, she and I talked with each other as often as we could in the few precious hours she was given off everyday. We chatted over this, that, and the other – usually about the good times we had both shared together before the war. After being a soldier for so long, Fluttershy's tender presence and sincerity helped me regain some semblance of normality in my life once again. For a short time I even allowed myself to laugh and make jokes and forget that there was any war at all within the sunny confines of the infirmary which she and the other doctors kept so orderly and clean. But in due time, duty called me back its service once more.

After I spent several weeks on the mend, I returned to the army, where I was reassigned to the 15th Regiment of Earth. From that point on, I have only been given rear-guard actions like watching over train lines and manning defenses that were far removed from the actual fighting – much like these heights I find myself on now.

I sigh to myself as I hear the echoes of voice at the base of the hill below. In the dim of the twilight I can see torch lights steadily making their way up the slope of the hill towards our position. No doubt it was the night-shift which would come to relieve us of our post. Knowing they would soon be at hand, I break from attention and allow myself a moment of carelessness to think about the three days pass I had been granted.

Soon I'd be back in Ponyville again. Not sitting up her on these deserted slopes that would never be attacked or guarding some lonely rail-junction in the middle of nowhere. I relished in thought that in a few precious more minutes, I would be back home – back where I belonged.

Where I belonged...

Those words drifted on my mind for a while before I began repeating them out-loud under bated breath, and my mind drifted to thoughts of my mother. I still remembered being by her side in the hospital when the moment came. I didn't want to believe it at first, but she was dying. The worst part was that she knew and she never told me. Never gave the slightest indication of what happening. And I stood there helplessly, holding her hoof when she breathed out her last, and gently left this life forever.

I reflected on those memories and shivered. Even with soldiers to my left and right, I felt utterly alone. I wondered with a morbid fascination if anyone even would care, if by some chance, I cast myself to the night and leaped from my high place atop this hill into the oblivion below. Would I be treated any different or would I just be marked as another casualty in this war that seemed would go on forever, without end, until all of ponydom itself would be swallowed up in its insatiable jaws.

The bugle is sounding now down the lines - the order for the sentries to fall out. All the others turn from their posts and start heading back down the narrow path that lead back to the barracks, but I linger on near the tall embankment, staring out as I had for many hours before, but now with an intense longing. What was out there beyond those trees? In strange moment of though, I imagined my destiny waiting there for me. Somewhere, I knew, it idled patiently for me.

As I gazed into the obscurity, I thought I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. In the soft gloom of the evening twinkle, I saw a shadow leap forth and bound in front of me. In the dark, I can not tell what it was, but as I look closer, I can make out the distinctive form of what I knew to be a butterfly against the vibrant hues of orange and purple that enveloped the horizon.

Its small wings flutter carelessly in the breezes, rising and falling effortlessly, as I had once been able to do myself. Its meek presence fills my heart with whimsy. This creature did not care what went on around it, or worry what new heart-aches tomorrow would bring it. It lived in the moment, this precious moment, when all about it was only what he sensed. Perfectly happy to live its brief existence, divorced from any judgment of any other, but what itself thought.

I stretch forth my hoof and allow him to land there, not wishing to disturb him. And as his delicate form rests there, I reflect on how precious and fragile life is. How it can be snatched away in a moment, without even a warning, for if I wished, I could trample this butterfly on a mere whim, and he would be consigned to his fate before he even knew what happened.

The butterfly, though, quickly leaves my palm and darts to the top of the embankment. "Don't go," I say under my breath as I follow it up the hill on all fours. "Not yet." I struggle get the top where he resides. I lose him, and then he flies. I chase around myself looking for him, I almost have him –

I go under and I hit the embankment with a dull thud. I tumble a few yards down the steep slope until I finally stop near the base. Something had knocked me over, but I didn't know what it could have been. It felt liked I had struck by lightning.

I look around and then struggle to pull myself up, but to no avail. Then a burning pain comes over me. I can feel it, festering in my chest. I look down and the bottom of my coat, the fabric starts to stain a dark crimson. I had been shot! I try to call for help, but I can't. All the breath had been knocked out of me when I fell and my throat felt incredibly dry.

I hold my side where I it hit and put my hoof back. It's saturated in blood. The sight of it makes me want to scream. My heart is beating faster now as my life-blood slowly drains away. Just stay calm, I tell myself, stay calm. It's not as bad as it seems. I can still get through this, I just need to keep my head on my shoulders.

My first instinct is to try to crawl, but I know I can't do that. It would just cause me to bleed faster, and in the state I'm in, I know I'll never be able to make it back up that hill. It seemed that, all at once, I was trapped – with no possible way of escape. Maybe the person who shot me would come along and find me soon and administer the coup de grâce and end it quickly, but there was no time think on such things. I only know what I have to survive. So I take a few deep breaths and hold my wound, trying to apply pressure to it, to stop the bleeding. Waiting for whatever may come.

As time wears or on, however, my mind begins to think of the possibilities. Would they realize I'm missing? Probably not. They didn't take roll for those going on leave. My name would be specifically glanced over because of it. Everyone would assume I went straight to town and wouldn't give another thought about it. That three-day pass I had received now suddenly appeared to have become my death warrant. The irony in it all was that I had to sign it too. I signed my own death warrant!

I try to calm down, but a suppressed rage comes over me. Damn them! Damn them all! I had given so much for the cause! I had volunteered countless times on risky missions that no other pony would take, I had spent innumerable hours doing the drudgery of army life, and at the last, I had sacrificed both of my wings for them – for the cause! And this is how I was to be repaid for my service? Allowed to bleed to death here these desolate heights? I ball my fist in and anger and wave it to the sky in defiance. I shall survive, I assure myself, despite of your neglect, your abandonment. I will go on without you, and I will be all the stronger because of it. I don't need you or anyone else!

I rage against the heavens, as my eyes fill with tears. For I realize that my fury was not directed at my comrades, but at my mother. "Why?" I breathe out, "Why did you have to go? Why couldn't you have told me? Why did you leave me here alone?"

In the dimness of the evening, I came to that poignant realization. The truth, I understood, was that I didn't belong. Since my mother had died, I had never belonged. I had always been the outcast. Always been the one ostracized and left out. Even now, in the army, it was no different. As soon as I had stopped being useful to them in a meaningful way, they threw me aside, just like everyone else had before. After all, what good was I to them now? What purpose can she serve? That's why I had been assigned here. It didn't matter how hard I worked or how much devotion I had shown to the cause. That was meaningless to them. All they saw was a uniform – another willing pawn.

Oh how foolish I had been! So arrogant and naïve! If only I had known this two years ago, I would have never joined. How all that talk of sacrifice and honor – it meant nothing. It was useless rhetoric. What good was freedom without friendship? Was Liberty based on hatred worth having? This war has already killed me – not in body, but in soul. I was no longer the carefree mare I had once been, now I was just a shell of my former self – uncaring and unfeeling. And in the process, I had given up everything I ever loved or cared about.

I weep against the sleeve of my jacket, murmuring through my sobs. "Please..." I whisper, "I realize what I've done wrong. Please, don't allow me to die. Not now. Not like this. I have so much more to do. I've barely even begun. I'll do anything, anything! But please, just let me live."

My jacket is drenched in blood now and I begin to feel much weaker than I had before. A fatigue washes over my body and I can hardly force myself to move. Overhead, the stars are shining as bright as ever in the night sky, and in the distance, I can even seen the moon rising. But there is a blackness now, enveloping it all. Not a natural type of darkness – but an all-consuming one, closing in from all sides.

I look to heaven, searching for the one I had not seen in a long while. "Mama," I croak out, "I'm sorry for thinking you abandoned me. I didn't know. Please, come find me, before I die. I want to see you again." I shed more tears as I felt death approaching. "Useless."

I suddenly hear a noise in the distance. It is the distinctive tromp of boots on the soft ground. As I focus my eyes through the blackness, I can see a figure cloaked in shadows. It was moving along the ridge, coming towards me. My heart speeds up, and for a moment, I allow myself to hope. Maybe it's a friend coming to my aid, maybe I had not been forgotten. I want to call for help, but I suddenly remembered, that it could also be a foe.

After a few moments, I thought I heard them fade away, and my heart dropped with despair. I wave my hoof and cry out as hard as I can. "Hey! Please! Help me!" I collapse back on the ground, unable to exert any more energy. "Please..." I moan out

I see the figure come closer through the dusk, with what little vision is left to me. In moonlight I can see as a familiar sight becomes discernible. An orange coated pony wearing a blue Lunar uniform approaches me, the bill of the cap obscuring the face. It was the comrade from the bridge!

"Please," I said reaching out.

She takes off her cap to revealing her face to me. It was not a soldier that stood before me, but my mother, as I had once know her. "Mama?"

She smiles at me, the same tender smile I had always know. "Give your hoof, sweetheart."

"But I'm afraid."

"I know," she whispers. "But I'm here to take you home. Just give me your hoof. I'll see us through this. Just you and me, together"

I reach out as far as I'm able into the specter's grasp and all fades into darkness. _Darkness._

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**Reviews would be greatly appreciated. **


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